


Regaining Control

by Lumelle



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Dom Phil Coulson, Dom/sub Play, Dominance, Light BDSM, M/M, Spanking, Sub Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-04 22:42:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/715917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumelle/pseuds/Lumelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has been tense ever since Phil came back. Phil wants to get back to where they were before his presumed death, and perhaps more openly so. More importantly, he wants Clint to stop thinking for long enough to get some rest. All this is made easier by a thin length of leather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regaining Control

Clint was tense.

Phil noticed it from the moment his eyes fell on the archer slipping out of an air vent in the medical wing. At the moment there had been several possible explanations, not the least of which being the fact he had just sneaked into the most tightly locked down section of the SHIELD medical facility, Phil's ears spying the rather distinct roar of the Hulk further in the building. As such, he hadn't thought much of it, certainly not more than he had been able to think of much of anything. He wasn't sure what kind of medication they had him on, but it left him drowsy and anything but sharp.

It wasn't until Clint halted next to his bed, pale as a ghost, and whispered, "You really are alive," that Phil even realized the Avengers had not been informed his so-called death had been merely temporary.

He counted Nick as a friend, being one of very few people who did, but upon that realization he had been all too glad to go along with the rather reckless plan the Avengers had concocted. Well, as much as he had been able to give any logical thought to it, with the drugs being what they were. Mainly he'd just given Clint a tired smile and a nod when he'd hastily informed Phil they were going to take him out.

At the moment it hadn't even occurred to him how they were going to care for him, or how they knew he was in good enough a condition to move anywhere. Thinking back, he was almost ashamed of his own lack of critical thought. Even though it had all been explained rather satisfactorily later on — or as close to satisfactory as one could consider the revelation that Tony Stark had hacked into the SHIELD database and stolen his medical files — he should have known to question it right away, instead of just lying back and letting them do as they wished.

Then again, even with all the drugs coursing through his veins to keep the pain away he had known that Clint would not do anything that would put him at undue risk.

That had been the mission, though, and Phil doubted any of them had been particularly relaxed, not until they were all stashed into an experimental jet, Phil's hospital bed included, with Iron Man flashing a peace sign at them as he shot off ahead of them. At that point the others had finally let their tension fade, shoulders falling, a tone of disbelieving laughter creeping into their voices, the bulking green mass that was Hulk making way for a slightly embarrassed Doctor Banner.

Only Clint, barely visible from his pilot's seat even as Phil craned his neck to see him, had still been tense, shoulders hunched. Drugs or no, it had been then that Phil had started to get concerned.

The tension remained there as they arrived in the Stark Tower — or, as it seemed to now be more accurately named, the Avengers Tower, and that made such a deep warmth spread through Phil — and even as Stark took great pleasure in shooting Nick down during a particularly intense video call. Clint stayed at the background of the group as the others informed Phil that they had been led to believe he was still dead, and had not been particularly happy to find out they had been lied to. As they had not believed Phil had been party to the deception, they had decided to free him from SHIELD's clutches and bring him to the tower as one of their own.

If he'd been able to think more clearly, Phil probably would have been floored at such attention, and even days later it still made him feel incredibly humble and elated at the same time. After all, he was just another agent. A very high-ranking and competent agent, yes, but still ultimately replaceable, unlike the heroes. To think that the Avengers would have defied SHIELD to bring him home made him feel like Captain America had just swooped in through the window to save his five-year-old self from a nightmare.

He'd have to talk with Nick later, of course, find out his motivations in carrying on the deception, and hopefully do something to pave way for more cooperation. At the moment, though, he was more concerned with recuperating and assuring his heroes that he was not going anywhere.

Assuring Clint that he was indeed alive.

The tension in Clint's shoulders didn't leave even as they decided on a party to celebrate Phil's return to the land of the living, and only got worse as Stark suggested that they should give Phil his own floor, with medical staff on call. The haunted look in his eyes softened just a bit as Phil sought them while looking for words, suggesting that it might be for the best if he stayed close to someone else instead, perhaps someone who was used to his proximity. After all, as they had ascertained from his files, he wasn't going to fall apart at the seams just like that. The wound was healing surprisingly well for something that should by all rights have left him dead, and though he was still too weak to do much of anything on his own and swinging between too much pain to focus and too much drugs to think, he did not actually need medical attention twenty-four seven. It would be much more beneficial for his recovery, Phil argued, if he started getting used to normal life again.

As the others agreed to that, Clint relaxed just a bit, though still not as much as Phil would have liked to see. Though then, he supposed all the tension wouldn't leave until the pain was gone from Clint's eyes, which he wasn't sure he could heal.

However, he was sure as hell going to try.

He focused on getting better, then, all his attention on pushing himself further but not too much, guided by the warm assurances of everyone in the tower. Clint never left his side for long, hovering about like a worried mother hen, not even letting Stark's teasing get at him. Not that the teasing lasted long, not after the Captain clearly took Stark aside and told him to cut it out. The fact that this seemed to work amazed Phil even more than the perfectly planned, coordinated and executed attack on the SHIELD facility had.

As glad as he was to see the team actually forming and working together, though, he couldn't help but worry at the constant tension in Clint. He knew the archer had hardly even slept since Phil had returned, and he would have been an idiot to think the situation had been in any way better when Clint had thought him dead. All in all, it certainly seemed reasonable for him to worry.

Another rather worrying thing was the way Clint had been avoiding him. Oh, he did hover close, always ready to give a hand if Phil had overestimated his strength, but he made sure not to cross any boundaries, even those he had happily trod all over before anything had happened. It wasn't good. Clint wasn't supposed to be careful and hesitant around him. Not when Phil had spent years carefully gaining his trust.

This, he would have to fix. Anything else was unacceptable.

His plan came together a piece at a time, falling back to familiar patterns despite the new situation, old fail safes that he hoped had not lost their effectiveness after everything. It was when the SHIELD bureaucracy finally saw it fit to return his tablet and its case, a day after he had been cleared for light duty, that he decided any more waiting would have been intolerable for either of them. Clint was doing his best not to show it, but the sleep deprivation was getting at him, and Phil was not going to let him fall to pieces in front of him. Not when it was his responsibility to keep him together.

"Clint?" He waited until Clint turned to look at him, sitting on their bed while Clint was sorting his arrows, before continuing. "How do you feel about me?" Because that was something he had to find out before anything else.

"What do you mean?" Clint frowned, though Phil wasn't sure if it was because he truly didn't understand the question or because he was trying to find an acceptable answer.

"You know what I mean." Phil shook his head. "Ever since I came back, you have treated me, ah, differently." Yes, they shared a bed, after precisely one night of trying to sleep apart after his return. Clint had tried to protest, fearing he might harm Phil in his sleep, but had given in at last, likely persuaded by the chance to reassure himself of Phil's being alive at any hour of the night. However, that and some stolen kisses were the only clear indications that Clint still considered them something more than mere friends.

"I'm sorry." And there was the tense set of his shoulders again. "I just. I'm not sure what to do. I mean, you're still too hurt for, well, anything."

"I know that." Much to his regret. However, he knew better than to screw up his recovery by pushing himself too far too fast, and even cleared for light duty was not nearly enough for sex. "However, I have been under the impression our relationship was not based solely on sex."

"That's not what I meant." Clint's eyes were firmly on his arrows, not drifting toward Phil even for a moment.

"Then tell me what you meant." Phil kept his eyes on him despite his gaze not being returned. "Do you not wish to be mine anymore?" It was such a simple question, certainly simple enough to let pass his lips, yet the mere thought of it filled him with dread.

"What? No!" Now, Clint's eyes finally flew to him, wide with something akin to fear. "That's not it! I just, I can't…" He drifted off, seeming at a loss.

Well. Good thing one of them had a plan, then.

"Come here." Phil reached out a hand, beckoning. As Clint still hesitated, he shifted his tone, one of command rather than coaxing. "Come to me, pet."

That at least got a response, as he had hoped it would. Clint set the arrows aside, getting up to his feet, before slowly crossing the room. He stood before Phil, then, eyes troubled but his stance easy.

"Kneel." And just like that, Clint fell down to his knees, hands clasped together behind his back. It was good to see some things still remained the same, Phil mused as he reached a hand to brush lightly along the outline of Clint's face. "You are tired, pet."

"I haven't slept much." And at last Clint let the exhaustion show through in his voice, raw and rough. "Sorry, Sir."

"I know you haven't, but that's not something you should apologize for. You've gone through a lot, haven't you? Been hurt so much by everything that has passed." He paused. "Will you let me take care of you, pet?"

There was a wordless nod in response. Then, as Phil gave him a sharp gaze, Clint licked his lips, searching for words. "Always, Sir." His eyes fell down, not meeting Phil's.

"Do you trust me?"

Clint swallowed, eyes still downcast. "More than anyone else, Sir."

"That does not answer my question, pet." Phil reached his hand down, grasping on Clint's chin to raise his face toward him. "Do you trust me, pet?"

Clint faced his gaze at last, and it tore at his heart to see the hint of doubt there. "Sir…"

"Think closely, pet." He let his voice soften, needing an answer but not willing to press for it. "I would rather have an answer that does not please me than a dishonest one you think I would want to hear."

"Right." Clint swallowed again, the movement of his throat clear enough for Phil to feel it at his fingertips. "I… I trust you, Sir."

"Thank you, pet." He let his hand slide to the side of Clint's face, now, glad to feel him leaning into the touch. "I know you have been hurt, pet, and I apologize for not being able to protect you when I should have. I apologize for leaving you alone at such a hard time. I know the circumstances were against me, but the fact remains that I left you alone to face your fears, and for that, I can only apologize."

Clint didn't say anything. However, his eyes stayed locked with Phil's, which he supposed was progress.

"However, I am back." He let his thumb caress a cheekbone, light and gentle. "If you would have me, pet, I promise I will work twice as hard to take care of you from now on. While I can't take back what already happened, I promise I will do everything I can to earn my place as your master again, if you would allow me. Does that please you, pet?"

Clint turned his head just a bit, enough to brush his lips against Phil's palm. "It would please me very much, Sir," he murmured against the sensitive skin, and Phil had to suppress a shiver. This wasn't the time for that. Neither of them was in the condition for such games.

"Very well." He took his hand away, heart jumping at the soft sound Clint gave at the loss. "Undress yourself, pet."

Clint obeyed without hesitation this time, quickly shedding his shirt while still on his knees, then getting up to get rid of the rest of his clothes. Once he was completely bare he knelt without needing another command, proud and strong in front of Phil, showing no hesitation at his close gaze.

"Well done, my love." Phil leaned forward to press a kiss on Clint's forehead. "Now, close your eyes and wait." Despite the obedience just before, he waited until he saw Clint's eyes flutter shut before standing up from the bed.

He let his steps be just a touch heavier than strictly necessary, making sure that Clint could track his path by the sound. Away from the bed, away from Clint, over to the bookshelf that housed the things they absolutely had to have in the bedroom. A few favorite books, an antique bow Clint had fallen in love with years ago, Phil's super hero figurines lined neatly on the top shelf. On one shelf, the one they used as a place to set things down temporarily, was his tablet, snug within its case.

Opening the case, Phil took the tablet out and set it aside, then peered inside the case itself. The seam on the inside was almost imperceptible, one that only the sharpest eyes might have noticed if they didn't know to look for it. Phil wasn't sure if such eyes had scanned it while SHIELD had custody of his possessions, but that didn't matter right now either way. What mattered was that they had not taken away what he had hidden there.

Sliding his hand through the well disguised parting, he found the familiar object right at his fingertips. Sliding it out, he set the case away again before walking back to the bed, sitting down in front of Clint. "You may look again."

Clint's eyes flew open, immediately finding the object in Phil's hands. As he recognized the familiar sleek leather collar, his eyes widened a bit in what Phil knew to be pleased surprise.

"Do you know what this is, pet?" he asked, his tone soft again.

"It is a collar, Sir." Clint licked his lips again as though his mouth were dry. "Your collar."

"This is true. The one you always wear while we play." He turned it around in his hands, almost feeling Clint's eyes burning into it. "I have a request, pet."

"A request, Sir?" Now, Clint's gaze rose up to his face, questioning.

"Indeed." Phil chose his words carefully, not wanting to leave even a hint of uncertainty or ambivalence in the matter. "Not an order, my beautiful pet. If you wish to tell me no, that is perfectly fine with me. I will not question your obedience or respect for me over it, certainly not your love."

"Anything for you, Sir." Clint's tone was earnest in a manner that almost pained Phil to hear. He had not earned that amount of trust, not yet. What he'd had before he had lost when he had allowed Loki to take him.

"Hear the request before you say that." He paused. "I would like to see you wear this even outside play."

"Sir?" Clint's eyes widened another bit.

"It is your choice, pet, and yours alone. However, I would be pleased if you were to at least consider it." He ran a thumb along the edge of the collar. "Obviously, I would not require obedience of you at all times. All I wish for is to see you bear my token. Make it clear to everyone that you belong to me, are under my protection. If that is what you wish for, that is."

Clint swallowed, his eyes dropping again, and for a moment Phil wondered if he had taken a step too far. However, when Clint looked up at him again, his eyes were bright, without hesitation or fear. "It would be my honor, Sir."

"Thank you, pet." Phil wasn't sure he had ever before meant it quite as deeply. Reaching forward, he fit the collar around Clint's throat, adjusting it to be snug yet not too tight before fastening the buckle. "I am not going to take this off you, pet," he murmured. "I have put it on you, but it does not come off unless you take it." He knew better by now than to corner Clint, even in love. Knew better than to give him any doubt as to Phil's feelings for him.

"Thank you, Sir." It was clear by Clint's tone that he had heard the other message underlying Phil's words.

I'm not leaving you, not ever again. Not unless you throw me away.

"You are exhausted, pet," he then said, running his fingertips along Clint's skin right at the edge of the collar. It looked good, the black leather against bare skin. "Will you be able to sleep if I take you to bed, or should I empty your mind first?"

For a moment he thought Clint might hesitate again, a moment of silence parting them from an actual response, but was proved wrong. "Please, Sir, empty my mind."

"Whenever you need me to, my pet." He pressed one last kiss on Clint's forehead, then sat up straight, starting to loosen his tie. They both needed the rest, after all. "Get on the bed, pet."

Clint scrambled up to his feet even as Phil started taking off his own clothes, eyes following his beautiful pet, all long, agile limbs and perfectly sculpted muscles. Clint got on his knees and elbows on the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging down, waiting with practiced ease while Phil undressed himself.

"You are so beautiful," he murmured. "It's almost a pity neither of us is up for more fun than this right now." Crawling closer on the bed, he knelt next to Clint, setting his hand between his shoulder blades, fingertips just barely brushing against the dark collar. "Don't think, my pet. Focus on me, on my hand, on my touch. That is all there is, pet. Forget anything else."

It was familiar enough a routine, one they had perfected over the years, somewhat unorthodox perhaps but also the only thing that consistently succeeded in calming Clint's mind after a particularly stressful mission. He murmured soft words, his hand caressing Clint's back, slowly sliding further down his spine.

Clint's breath hitched momentarily as Phil's hand reached the curve of his ass, then calmed again as Phil kept up his murmurs, hand stilling for a moment. He waited until Clint was calm again, his breaths calm and steady, before lifting his hand and bringing it down in a sharp, stinging slap.

Clint gasped, a ripple of tension rushing through his body, and Phil waited, patient. Again, he waited until Clint had calmed before drawing his hand back again.

After that he picked up the pace, making sure to keep them a bit unpredictable, forcing Clint to focus on the sting of the strikes and the anticipation of the next one rather than finding patterns. Strike by strike, he dyed the perfect curve of his ass a beautiful shade of red.

Finally, he ceased, running a hand lightly over the sensitive skin, and leaned in to murmur into Clint's ear. "Think you can sleep now, pet?"

Clint's answer was a gasped yes, which was good enough for Phil. He gently guided him to lie down, running a soothing hand along his back, coaxing him to relax. Once Clint had practically melted into the mattress, he lay down beside him, maneuvering the covers over them both before reaching his arms to hold Clint close.

"You're beautiful," he whispered again, ducking his head to kiss Clint's throat just above the collar before stealing another kiss on his lips. "My beautiful lover…"

"Always, Phil," Clint murmured, eyes fluttering to a close as he finally let his exhaustion seep in. "Always yours."

"And I'm never leaving you again." That was a promise he fully intended to keep, no matter what. "Not ever again."

Clint's answer was lost to a murmur as he drifted off to sleep. Phil smiled faintly, holding him close. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

A start to giving Clint back his control again.


End file.
